


Stiles Stilinski x Reader | One Shots

by snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Light Angst, Pack, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Romance, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales/pseuds/snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the original stories my mind has spun about that wonderful man with an odd first name. (Also contains some Void Stiles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awestruck

**Inspired by:** Imagine Stiles being left awestruck when he first laid eyes on you. | Original images imagine post: [x](http://pythonxssam.tumblr.com/post/130834658695) by [@pythonxssam](http://tmblr.co/mBfyb91y1zsrsSNSrX9XJKQ)

* * *

Stiles closed his locker, startling when he saw the one beside him was open. It had been vacant all semester, and now suddenly, it, well…. Wasn’t.

He decided to introduce himself to his locker mate, clearing his throat to get their attention.

The form immersed in the locker froze, slowly moving back to rock on the heels of their tennis shoes, the top of a head only down to the bridge of a nose sticking out. “Um, can I help you?”

Of all the times Stiles’ mind had too many words, it chose this time to have none. Absolutely none. Zero. Nothing. Zilch. He pondered why he could think of so many words that literally meant nothing yet couldn’t think of a single word that meant anything.

He scoffed, barked out an awkward high pitched laugh, making a face of pain before he just turned and ran away. He barreled around the corner, straight into Scott.

“Stiles!” Scott shook his best friend by the shoulders to stop his incessant babbling. When he finally stopped, Scott asked what was going on.

Stiles walked over to a wall and started lightly thumping his forehead against it, muttering various words that strung together made no sense.

Scott turned him around and Stiles slumped against the wall, staring at the lockers across the way deep in thought.

“‘How are you doing?’” He said with a little too much joy, berating himself as he thought of another. “'Hi. Hello. My name is Stiles.’ …… ‘Hi.’”

Scott sighed. “You met Y/N, didn’t you?”

Stiles looked up at Scott as if he had said he knew where a chocolate river was. “Her name is Y/N? That’s beautiful. How do you know her? Oh don’t tell me, you’re already dating her aren’t you? You and your little charming, dashing, wolfy personality swooping in on the most beautiful girl in school before I even get a chance.”

“Stiles-”

“I mean, dude, come on, she is like, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen-”

“Stiles-”

“I mean, she actually rendered me speechless. Speechless! Me! I know!”

“Stiles!”

“Yeah, what? You need something Scott?”

Reaching out, the alpha gripped his friend’s shoulders and turned him, putting him face to face with you. Stiles’ face turned red and he uttered a string of syllables while gesturing with his hands, laughing almost manically.

You held out your hand with a smile. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

He tentatively shook your hand. “Hi.”


	2. What does the fox say?

**I saw[this](http://alloftheimaginesblog.tumblr.com/post/131217555264/requested-by-tegansabitweird-what-are-you) post by [@alloftheimaginesblog](http://tmblr.co/m8KKfnDfrBUE3ggGF1WehOw) and it got me thinking. **

**(Dangerous, I know.)**

**I would ask Siri what the fox says. Void Stiles would be so confused.**

**I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.**

**Or Apple/Siri. Or the fox song. ~~Just covering my bases.~~**

Xxx 

Backing up slowly as the shell of your best friend stalked toward you, you got an idea. Sticking your chin up in the air in defiance, you stopped, making the Void stop, narrowing his eyes at you. “Okay, trickster. Riddle me this. What does the fox say?”

  
He cocked his head to the side in that creepy way that sent chills down your spine. “What do you me-”

Not even bothering to let him speak further, you let out a small cry of triumph, allowing yourself a smug smile. “Nope! Wrong.” Holding your phone up to your lips, you held down the button, waiting for the little vibration. “Siri, what does the fox say?”

Your phone dinged in recognition before Siri gave her answer. “Ring-a-ding-ding-ding-dinga-dingy-ding!”

A look of shock quickly fading to anger passed over the Void’s face, his eyes narrowing further. “I do no-”

You held the button down again, the vibrations cutting off his rebuttal. “What does the fox say?”

Ding. “Whapa-pa-pow!”

“Stop that!” his voice was angry, but you saw a glimmer in his eyes of amusement, and you knew deep down that it was Stiles, laughing on the inside.

You made your phone vibrate one more time, saying each word with emphasis, the grin on your face a growing, permanent fixture. “What. Does. The. Fox. Say.?”

Your phone dinged, and the Void stared at it angrily while your stare never wavered. “Hmmmm…. Let me think about that….. I’m not sure I can process that request at this moment.”

  
Your growing feeling of triumph was quickly diminished to nothing but fear once again rising in your chest as the Void simply grinned at your phone, slowly raising his eyes to meet yours.


	3. Into the Void

_A/N: This has nothing to do with the song. I thought of the title then Googled it and felt less original than I thought I was. Haha!_

_I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly._

**Nothing really. Just my mind spinning. It gets dizzy sometimes and spits this nonsense. I apologize. It’s not exactly gold, but I’ll try to spin something worthwhile. (That is kinda epic. I should save that.)**

Xxx

Stiles woke up screaming yet again, the third time tonight. You rushed over to him from the chair you had been sleeping in a few feet away, his father not far behind, running in from the hall and grabbing his flailing son, trying to contain him, whispering calming things in his ear. 

“It’s not real, Stiles,” you offered supportively, firmly gripping the hand you held, causing him to look at you. 

“Which part? Before I started screaming or this?” Your heart broke at those words. Your friend couldn’t even tell if you were still the nightmare or actually there comforting him. 

“Before. Want me to prove this is real?” He nodded slowly, sniffing softly as he swiped at his tears, eyeing his father briefly with caution, as if preparing to find himself still in a dream. 

“How many fingers do I have?” You held up your hands, all your fingers extended and had him count, his voice slightly relieved when he made it to ten. You smiled, then handed him a small whiteboard you wrote on. “Read this.”

He looked at the board and squinted like a person with bad vision trying to read an eye chart. You flicked on the bedside lamp and he let out a small cry, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. “Oh. That helped.”

You laughed softly as he read the board with no problem, his voice trailing off at the end, his eyebrows narrowing. “Hi. My name is Stiles, and I like to eat oranges.” He looked at you. “You are very strange.”

“Had to think of something obscure so I knew you’d believe me.”

“You okay, son?” His father spoke for the first time, his voice quiet, almost broken. 

Stiles patted his father’s arm still wrapped around him protectively, smiling weakly. “Yeah, pops. I’m fine.”

His father retreated from the room, but not before you saw him swipe at a tear as he rounded the corner into the hall. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You asked Stiles softly, once again taking his hand and rubbing his knuckles softly with your thumb. 

He nodded a short, decisive nod, staring at his comforter. “Will you come lay with me while I do? I promise, no funny business. I just need to feel you next to me since I know you’re real.”

Climbing into the bed, you each lay on your side, face to face, your foreheads nearly touching, his hot breath fanning across your face. He stared down and away, not looking you in the eye. Hooking a finger under his chin, you raised his face so now your noses almost touched. “Stiles. It’s okay. Just tell me.”

“It’s…. It’s like I’m stuck. Stuck in this…. Hole, this canyon like hole, and everything just echoes. It’s dark, and I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. I feel like I’m drowning in the darkness. Who knew emptiness could be so claustrophobic?”

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like when I used to go camping with my dad. Being out in such wide open spaces makes you feel so small, it’s almost suffocating sometimes.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, looking away as his lip began to tremble. He bit it, trying to hold in the sob, his face screwing up more and more the harder he tried. Closing his eyes tight, a few tears slipped free and you pulled him into you as he began to sob, rocking him and gently rubbing his back until he quieted. 

“I just feel so alone. And helpless. Like everyone needs my help, needs me for something, I don’t know what, but I’m trapped in this place and can’t get out. I’m afraid to move in case something is on the ground, or I’m on the edge of a cliff or something. And all I keep thinking is, ‘I gotta get out of here’. And then I wake up screaming. I feel like there is something I’m missing. Some important part of the dream just before I wake up, making me scream, but I can’t remember it. Or maybe I just don’t want to.”

“Dreams are tricky things. Don’t think too much of it. I used to have a dream that ice cream is made of feathers and corn.”

Stiles pulled away from you slowly, his face making you laugh as he looked at you skeptically. “What? The point is it wasn’t true.”

“You are a very odd person.”

“And that is why you are my best friend. Two peas in a pod, both of us quite odd.”

Stiles groaned, his head falling back into your chest as you laughed. “Please stop trying to write poetry. We established years ago you suck.”

“You know what rhymes with that? ‘I don’t give a duck’.”

He groaned again. “Autocorrect changes your text once and no one lets you forget it.”

“Nope,” you smiled.


	4. Superhero

_A/N: So “One Call Away” by Charlie Puth came on the radio as I pulled into my driveway tonight, and this happened. I do not own the song, Superman, or Batman. All credit where it is due._

_I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly._

**I’m only one call away  
** I’ll be there to save the day  
Superman got no-thing on me-hey  
I’m only one call away ([x](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/charlieputh/onecallaway.html))

Xxx

Stiles drove down the road, singing along with the radio, tapping the steering wheel to the beat, his head even slightly bopping to the rhythm. “‘Superman got no-thing on me-hey’-” he sang, before dropping into a lower, ridiculous voice, “Because I’m Batman, bitch!” 

Suddenly he saw a lone figure walking on the shoulder of the road up ahead, their body hunched, and he softly muttered a, “What the hell….” Fading off when he recognized who it was.

Pulling over into the shoulder, he drove alongside his friend, keeping the Jeep rolling at their slow speed. He reached over and rolled down the passenger window with a small smile, and spoke with a ridiculous drawl. “Hey, little lady, you’re way too pretty to be out here all by yourself.“

His smile faltered when he heard her sniffling, not even looking up to the car rolling along beside her, her shoulders shaking slightly with tears. “What’s wrong?”

She stopped abruptly, tossing her arms up in the air and letting them slap down to her thighs in exasperation. He slammed on the brakes, and put the Jeep into park as they shared a little stare off. 

Finally, she quietly spoke. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s too stupid.”

He laughed softly as he spoke. “What’s stupid is how you are out here walking alone! Why didn’t you call me?”

She scowled at him with a sniffle, practically daring him to break and laugh at her. “Because I’m crying, and-”

“So?” There was that little chuckle again, and that grin that was contagious.

She looked at him, fighting the urge to return the smile, fiddling with her fingertips as she spoke. “Stiles, I’m a mess. Look at me. I probably look like a raccoon.”

“No. Maybe like one tried to finger paint on your eyes or something, but you yourself look nothing like a raccoon.” He spoke with such sincerity, she couldn’t help the smile any longer, as it climbed up her face.

He shot a face splitting grin her way, before speaking excitedly. “There’s that girl I know. Now come on. Get in. I’m not leaving until we talk. Then you can get out and sulk if you still feel so inclined.” He reached over and opened the passenger door for her. 

“Stiles, I don’t know if I can-” she began to tear up again.

“Yes you can. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Stiles, I’m sobbing myself into a puddle here. Why would you even want to be seen with me? You said yourself a raccoon finger painted my face!”

He just smiled again, looking at her as if she already knew the answer. “Because despite the raccoon art,“ he held his hand out to her, waving it towards himself when her shoulders slumped, hand plopping into his own, and helped her in, reaching over and shutting the door before looking her right in the eyes, wiping away at the stains with the pads of his thumbs. “Underneath it all is a beautiful girl who still looks amazing, even when she cries.”

She screwed her face up at him, a grimace of disgust and disbelief, looked straight forward out the windshield with a scoff, before looking back to him, once again sniffing dramatically, wiping at her nose with the back of her sleeve, smiling sardonically. “That is a horrible thing to say, yet exactly what I needed to hear.”

He leaned back in his seat with a smirk. “Well, you know me. Saving the day is my specialty.”


	5. Low blow

**Stiles Stilinski x Reader**

**So, this is something that popped into my head, and I couldn’t let the idea sit, so here it is. This is what happens when I can’t sleep. (Also,[@obsessed-withthe-hales](https://tmblr.co/mtxoJxGCHtppiXX3gkn14uA) is partly to blame for this idea forever ago with her Derek baseball fic, AU, “Curve Ball”.)**

**Words:** 1,432

 **Warnings:** None. That I am aware of. But mainly just fluff.

**I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.**

**I do not own Star Wars. Or it’s characters. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for anything? My soul says yes.**

Xxx

“No, no, no! You have to swing it like _this_ ,” Stiles cried, imitating a seemingly perfect swing of a bat with a nice follow through, as he said the last word. His voice almost swooped like his arms, lilting just the tiniest bit, even a little breathy, as if the action was sacred or whimsical. 

Staring out to wherever the mystical, pretend ball he had just knocked out of the park, the smallest of smiles on his face, finally his arms fell to his sides once again as he looked back to you, pulling a signature face at the stone cold expression you wore. “What?” It was loud, over exaggerated, his face screwing up like he ate a lemon, and once again his arms flew up, this time held widely out to his sides in question. 

“Stiles.”

It was all you said. It was all you could say. 

Half of you wanted to yell, and scream, and basically pick up a handful of grass off the lacrosse field and throw it in his face, no matter how childish and ridiculous that was. 

But that was only half of you. 

The other half wanted to smile. To laugh at his antics, give in to the sarcasm and shoot him an eye roll, maybe even banter a little bit back at him. 

But you were torn between grass throwing and wit battling.

So all you could utter was a name. The source of your dilemma. The reason you were torn between two totally different emotions. 

“Y/N, look,” he finally said, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have to know how to protect yourself.”

“I-”

“Hut-tut-tut!” He held up a finger, silencing you to all but a huff. “Don’t give me that Derek look. Tall, dark, and brooding may be able to make it work, but on you? You just look like an angry flower.”

“A flow- Do I even want to know-”

“You know, that kid who gets cast as the ‘third flower from the right’ in the kindergarten play, and because she is angry with the world for casting her in that role when all she ever wanted to be was ‘fourth tree on the left’ she stood there, arms crossed, lips all pouted out and a scowl on her face as she refused to dance with the other little girls in their matching flower costumes?”

A moment of silence settled between you two, along with a growing grin on your friend’s face. 

“You little- You remember that?”

“Why do you think I called you Daisy?” He laughed softly. 

You blushed. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe you thought I was cute or pretty or something. We were five, Stiles! And it stuck.”

He was biting his bottom lip to contain his laughter. 

You smiled sardonically, looking down at the ground with a dark chuckle, tapping the bat against the grass. “That was a low blow, Stilinski.”

“Oh, don’t be such a grumpy gus, come on. You grew up to be a very beautiful, if still somewhat terrifying when you scowl like that,” he pointed at your face, “flower, and I, for one, want to see your beautiful if not somewhat terrifying face for many more days, which is why, _Daisy_ ,” it was times like these you wished you were a wolf like Scott, “you have to learn to protect yourself.”

“With a bat.” Your voice was dry, emotionless. 

“With a bat.” He nodded once in confirmation, pointing to the thing in your hands. 

You stared at the long, aluminum bat in your hands, waving it gently back and forth, you saw it catch the light from the headlights of the Jeep in just the right way, and you smirked. “You think of this as a lightsaber, don’t you?”

After stammering a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing a few times, he sounded offended. “I do not!”

You laughed softly. 

“But now I do.” He said it so quietly you almost missed it. 

“So, Master Stilinski,” you swung the bat in a circle, rotating your wrist, and you had to admit, you felt very Jedi yourself. He narrowed his eyebrows at you, his lips starting to curl up in a genuine grin. “I have been told by the Council that my sparring technique is quite rusty, and makes me a liability to my team on missions. I hear you are the best sparring partner around. Care to teach me a few things?”

You could swear literal sparks went off in his eyes. “Dear God, I actually got aroused by Star Wars.” He mumbled the words quickly and quietly, obviously meant for himself, probably not even meant to be said out loud. Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, he cleared his throat, swiping at his nose once in that way he always did, and scratching the back of his head before finally saying, “Oh, hell, come here.”

He helped you position your arms, holding the bat just so, just like before, but he couldn’t wipe the dumb grin off his face. 

And neither could you. 

“No, no,” he said, grabbing your wrist gently, his hand enveloping yours around the handle of the bat. “More like,” he came around behind you, doing the same with his other hand, his chest pressing against your back, leaning into you to help shape your body into what he was asking. “More like this,” he finished, jostling his hands a little, proving to you how strong this stance was. 

You both realized just how close you were in the same instant. His breath was hot on your neck, his grip on your hands tightening, and the rest of his body pulled flush to yours. A shared look, however brief showed you were both on the same thought trail. Eyes flicked down to lips and back again. Tongues came out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Features began to blur as your faces grew closer. 

“Stiles,” you all but whispered, smiling gently at his rough swallow and strangled hum in acknowledgment. “Is that a lightsaber in your pocket, or are you just really glad to see me?”

His lips parted for a moment before you both burst out laughing. He took several steps back, and you turned away, more to hide your blushing cheeks than anything. 

“Hey, Stiles! You mean something like this?” You swung the bat, but because of your sweaty palms, on the pull back, it flew out of your hands, and before you could look, you knew where it landed. 

Stiles was crumpled on the ground, a few feet behind you, obviously on his way back over to you when it happened. 

“Oh my God! I am so sorry! Are you okay? Oh, come on, Stiles! It was just your stomach, and I can’t be that strong! Quit being such a- a- a…… _Pansy_!”

He chuckled but immediately grimaced, rolling over onto his side, into the fetal position. 

“Low blow, Padawan. Low blow.” His voice was strained. 

“Are you talking about my flower nickname joke just now, or is that in reference to where I hit you?”

Stiles just looked at you, and your lips drew into a thin line, a single nod in acknowledgment all you could muster. 

“Sorry.”

“No, no,” he said, waving emphatically from his position on the ground, grimacing and rising to a seated position, mumbling, “I’m gonna puke.” After a moment, a held up finger in request of silence and time, and a rough swallow, he slowly stood up, standing with his legs a little further apart than usual, but it looked like a battle with his knees wanting to turn in and cross, possibly even buckle under him. “I said I would teach you, and I will. I just think,” he picked up the bat with a brief look of disgust, flipping it in the air so he held the end, extending the handle to you, which you took in both hands, tentatively, “this time,” he moved behind you once again, resuming the stance, “I need to keep my hands over yours.”

As he moved you through the motions of a wind up slowly, pulling your arms back, and effectively pulling you closer to him still, his voice was right in your ear, quiet, almost whispered. “And just to be on the safe side, I think standing right here keeps me out of the line of fire.”

“Good idea,” you whispered back, finding that smirk once again on your face. 

“I thought so, too.” You could hear his own smirk. “But don’t be so surprised. It’s the only kind I have.”


	6. No training wheels

**A/N: Just a very short[Stiles x Delinquent](http://snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales.tumblr.com/post/133060974681/stiles-x-reader-yn-is-a-delinquent-teen-and-an) I came up with. **

**I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.**

Xxx

“What the hell is this?” you asked at the sight in front of you. Stiles was astride a motor bike, revving the engine entirely unnecessarily. He may have had only the visor of his helmet flipped up, concealing most of his face, but you saw his eyes crinkle in a way that looked like a kid at Christmas. “Where’s Roscoe?”

“In the shop. Long story,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“What, are you telling me that duct tape finally gave out?” You leaned in closer to his face smirking as you said the last word almost scandalously. “Shocker.”

“Ha-ha,” he said sardonically before tossing a helmet your way.

Catching it, you raised your eyebrows at him. “Woah. Okay. Thanks for the warning. I know I’m awesome, but what do you think I am? Some kind of superhuman? While flattering, please give me a heads up next time. I prefer not to get knocked out by a flying helmet.”

A blush stained what you could see of his cheeks and the back of his neck, his eyes wide as he muttered apologies, and something about ‘forgetting sometimes’.

“Want me to drive?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Stiles, this is a big kid’s bike. No training wheels.”

“You know how to drive this?” He sounded surprised before he rolled his eyes, looking straight ahead. “Why did that surprise me?”

“I dunno. You’re slacking, buddy.” You pulled on the helmet, smiling at his muffled grumbling as you gave him a pat on the shoulder playfully before climbing on behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Leaning your chin on his shoulder, you smirked as he turned his head just enough to look down at you and raise an eyebrow. “Come on, Stilinski. Let’s ride.”

He chuckled, reaching up to swat your visor down, doing the same to his before settling in and taking off.


	7. Super Somethings

_A/N: This just hit me. I hope you like it. 672 words. Feels good to write again. I had to get it out._

**I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.**

**_”Superman” by Rachel Platten just got my wheels going for the first time in a while. Wrote this in 20 minutes. Hope it’s okay._ **

Xxx

You held him back as their hand fell to the ground in a final, hollow thud. Their last impact on the world. Their last breath exhaled on a name.

The world seemed to be silent, everything stopping just for this life changing event, but at the same time, you could swear you heard a faint heartbeat, despite your lack of supernatural anything.

He screamed a cry of protest, the vowel elongated in his “no”, it’s crack a gut wrenching thing, making our own breath stop, catch in your throat, and tears prick at your eyes as you tugged him back with all your might.

“Shhhh,” you kept repeating, getting between him and the scene, having to push him now, pulling not being effective enough. “Shhhhh…. It’ll be okay.”

“How in the world is that okay?!” He gestured over your shoulder to an image you knew would be forever in your mind. Looking down to you after a minute, his resistance faltering, his face looked broken.

Every line showed a weight, every crease a worry, every tear threatening a stress, and every one fallen a silent scream.

“It’s not yours to fix.” It took everything to keep your voice even and reasonable.

“Like hell it isn’t,” he mumbled, looking back to the scene and trying to push you to the side.

“Stiles!”

Saying his name must have made something click, because he stopped abruptly, just staring at the scene still behind you, his face resigned to be on the outside looking in despite his voice protesting otherwise.

“Stiles.”

A moment. “Yeah?” A loud sniff.

“I know what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t say that shit! Everyone says that, but it’s just a placeholder, no one really-”

“You have shown me time and again what you can do. I know you. I know what’s racing through that mind right now. This one isn’t for you. Not on you. Let the others take care of it.”

“They just died!” His voice broke as it raised in protest, his gesturing once again pointing behind you.

“Stiles, man, they’ll be back. They’re werewolves. Listen to her.” Scott’s voice was calm, ever the leader.

“It’s okay, Stiles.”

“No, it’s not! I-”

“For God’s sake, let me take care of you, Stiles!” You snapped. “You take care of everything. Everyone. Take a breath. Hang up the cape for a minute, and walk among us mortals. Take a freaking nap!”

“But it’s what I do-”

“It’s what we do,” you corrected him.

He was silent for once.

“We as a pack, yes, but we as in you and me. We’re the humans. We can’t do a lot of things.”

He scoffed sarcastically. “You can say that again.”

“But we can help carry other things. We may not be able to carry a body to safety, but we can help carry their fear. We may not be able to roar in the faces of Evil of the Week, but we can roar encouragement for our friends as they do. We may not be supernatural, but we are super something.” He rolled his eyes at the horrible play on words. “We’re only human. And that’s enough. Now let me help you.”

“Okay. How?”

“They’re coming back, guys!” Scott’s voice sounded urgent.

“Like that.”

“Wait, what? I’m confused.” Stiles looked between you and the scene.

“You let me in and distract you for just a minute. Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

“Guys, help me move them back here,” Scott grunted before you heard one groaning body being dragged behind a wall for protection.

Stiles met your eyes once again, a small smile working it’s way up one side of his face. “I think it’ll take both of us to get the next one.”

“If we’re lucky.” You smiled.

“Nah, luck has nothing to do with it,” Stiles said offhandedly, heading towards the wounded wolf, as you got the other side. “We’re humans.” Grunting, you both lifted the wolf and started dragging them to the wall, and Stiles smirked. “Actually, last I checked, we’re super somethings.”


End file.
